


Object Permanence

by immortalbears



Series: Stockholm Syndrome [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, POV First Person, Sex Toys, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stockholm Syndrome, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbears/pseuds/immortalbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hopelessly in love with Washington, Felix is forcefully separated and locked in a small room by a mysterious (and handsome) man named "Locus". Felix doesn't have much time left to figure out why he's been kidnapped, even as he tries to cling to memories of his beloved. </p><p>Unarmed and weakened, Felix stands no chance as the "Soldier" does heinous things to him - impersonal as they seem. </p><p>When Locus removes his helmet, Felix realises that the mark on Locus' face is the mark of the soulbond. Could this be why "Locus" keeps him alive? Always a skeptic about soulbond marks, Felix tries to turn the tide against his kidnapper in hopes of escape. Would he succeed? What are Locus' motives for doing all of these reprehensible things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object Permanence

**Author's Note:**

> [Dissociation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6497719), told from Locus' perspective, sheds a bit more light on this piece.

 

I might just love Agent Washington.

 

Well, love is a pretty strong word. But then again, so are my feelings for him. It's not like you get to see the entire Milky Way stretched out across somebody's back, from shoulder to shoulder, every time. The play of lighter and darker skin pigment on his skin is really quite an artwork. Freckles. I'm talking about freckles.

 

It's almost like I'd swoon or something.

 

But Felix, you say, that's ridiculous. Of course it is. Love isn't lust. You can look at somebody, fuck them in the ass brutally, and still not feel a single whit for them.

 

You know, I thought the same way, until I met him. I'm not going to say that it's like, the One True Love, because it really isn't.

 

Wash is... He's exquisite, you know? Freckles all over his back. Looks great when he's all tensed up, especially in rope. A slight sprinkle of those on his belly. Which, by the way, is _ripped as fuck_. The guy has the face of an angel, and the body of a sinner.

 

He lets me does anything I want. Bitch, you'd better believe it. When I say anything, I mean _anything_. I've tied him up, made him cry, fucked him with an entire fist. I've gotten a partner to join in, too. Nothing like palling around with some bros. You get to feel their dick rubbing against yours when you're fucking somebody's tight little hole... Oh, and _god_. Right after somebody cums inside him. You know that split second when you're inserting your dick into something, and it feels so hot and silky, lubed up with somebody else's seed? It's fucking _amazing_.

 

And he _always_ cums. All I have to do is humiliate him, and give him a little pain... Stroke him the right way, and he becomes putty in my hands.

 

He's kinda handsome, I guess. He's got that sort of face, you know? It grows on you, like a puppy that you initially want to kick, but then it wags its tail and doesn't leave you, so you end up adopting it for life.

 

What? No, don't be stupid. We're not bonded.

 

You see all of these morons out there, flaunting their marks so that they can find The One? Those fools who don't know who they are or what they want to do with their lives, dedicating themselves towards searching for The One?

 

Yeah, he's nothing like that. We love each other already, so we don't really need to do that sort of shit. He's got a nice, cute mark, though. It's just there on his belly. If we're having a gangbang, we cover it up. It's no big deal.

  
There's this kid I used to know. The motherfucker – literally – got bonded to his mother because she had her mark on her palm, and he had it on his forehead. One day, he got a high fever, and his mother forgot to keep her gloves on. Guess what happened? ...They fucking bonded.  
  
I mean, it's no big deal, because you can probably bond with more than one person. I've heard of this guy who had at least bumped marks with hundreds of people in his life. He's another moron, but let's not get into that.

 

Let me tell you a secret, just between you and I.

 

You see, I keep my mark hidden at all times. Wash doesn't ask me to show it to him. See this? Yes, the glove is supposed to cover my left hand at all times.

 

Heh. Of course it isn't there. Don't be stupid.

 

Wash has, not once in his life, asked to see it. Neither has he ever asked to top me. Which has _really_ been working out for the both of us, since, you know, almost everybody – like you – assumes that I'm the bottom.

 

Eh. Fuck, no. He's not fucking stupid. Wash knows what he's doing. We've talked about this before, alright?

 

You only ever meet them once or twice in your life, then you have to keep them in your life forever, no matter what the cost.

 

That's _love_. No bullshit bond is going to do anything like that. Do you know how many people are murdered each year just because their partners wanted to get out of a bond? Sure, people are murdered because of love, too, but that's not because somebody wanted out.

 

Guess where my mark is? Yeah. It's here.

 

Aren't you just a little curious to see whether or not we're soulmates? Whether we'll bond?

 

Heh. Of course we aren't. Just to make it clear, though. It's nothing personal. I had a job to do, and Wash totally doesn't have to be involved, right? And I get to indulge in an idle fantasy of mine. I'm surprised you fell for it, though. It doesn't usually work out this way.

 

You thought I looked young, hm?

 

You thought a barely legal teenager was going to just let you fuck him and then you can go back and brag about it to your friends? That maybe we could even get bonded and you'd have a young fucktoy to use?

 

I've jerked off to it before, by the way. The idea of being a young fucktoy. Not yours, specifically. I'm too old for that, and as for the rest...

 

Nice job having an erection, by the way. I've seen bigger.

 

Bah. You're starting to bore me. Just die already.

 

*

 

Shit.

 

Yeah, that's all I've got. _Shit._

 

This job? It was supposed to be easy. Wash was supposed to cover my back, _and_ he wasn't supposed to find out about what we're actually doing here.

 

So the witness noticed something was off, ran like a little bitch instead of fighting like he's supposed to, and the next thing we know he has his back to us. Of course I fucking shot him. Wash was like, looking at me like I'm a murderer. As if we haven't fucking killed so many before.

 

Fortunately for us, it's not so bad. Wash is easy to talk to, especially if you're being reasonable and logical with him. Thank god for Wash, really. You don't know how many people I've broken up with because they couldn't take a little casualty in war. You know, armed conflict. Same thing.

 

Usually, I just really hate people who are way too stupid for me, but Wash is... Well, I like him, and he's not a complete weakling, so he's okay. He's got common sense, at least. Something lots of fools don't have.

 

Wash understands, that's all I'm saying. He feels bad, like most of the others, but he understands. And the fact that he feels bad keeps him in check, too, so you know he'd never betray you. He's not that sort of guy.

 

Now that's the sort of worthy person I'm talking about.

 

Anyway, what's so frustrating about the situation isn't that I had to bullshit my way out of it, or that we wasted so much time getting past the first mission that the second mission was completely fucked up. It's the fact that some motherfucker has me tied up in the back of his pelican and my mouth is stuffed with this gross tasting cloth that smells like petroleum. Oh, and I can't fucking see shit, either, because blindfolds.

 

Hurrah.

 

How did that happen, you ask? Boy, wouldn't I like to tell you. Once I can get the fuck out of these handcuffs.

  
_Son of a bitch._  
  


*

 

My kidnapper is called Locus. I've heard his boss call him that. I don't know why his boss wants me dead, but he does. As far as I know, it's probably not even personal. What I did hear, though, was that Locus is a good soldier who follows orders.

 

But something made him stop. He'd held the pistol to my face before. He could have so easily blown my face off. Why didn't he?

 

There's two things this Locus guy could do. Let me go, or fucking kill me. Which really would be preferable to lying here until my limbs atrophy, but hey, I'd really rather live, thank you very much.

 

Wash must be worrying himself sick.

 

I hope Wash'll be able to rescue me, at least. He probably has no idea where we went, but well. There's some hope, alright? Maybe he wants a ransom from Wash. He hasn't made the phone call yet, which is disturbing... Anyway, Wash isn't like real rich or anything, so, no point in blackmailing him.

 

I made sure to tell Locus that, by the way. He just gagged me up again.

 

That's just strange. People usually get kidnapped for money, or by people they know. Being kidnapped by strangers like this? That's rare.

 

...Do I know this guy? Does he know me? I mean, sure, he's Locus, but maybe he used to be somebody else. And that somebody else might have a grudge against little ol' Felix.

 

I can't believe I'm actually calling him by such a ridiculous name. But then again, I also call Wash “Wash”.

 

Weirdoes everywhere.

 

*

 

Here's a list of things to do when you're kidnapped.

 

One: Don't talk so much.  
  
Two: Don't have bodily functions, or your kidnapper will get mad.

 

Three: ...They don't react well when you tell them to fuck themselves.

 

Seriously, what was I supposed to do? I wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom. Of course I'm going to pee at some point. I deserve better, of course, like a toilet made of solid gold, but anyway, it happened, and I sure as hell wasn't going to apologise for it.

  
Guess what the motherfucker did?

 

On second thought, I don't want to talk about it. Or think about it. Or remember it. Nothing much happened, by the way. It's just so fucking humiliating, I swear I'm going to kill him in his sleep someday.

 

*

 

He hasn't killed me yet.  
  


I woke up in a sealed room, with nothing but a bed inside. Which really is much better than anybody in my situation could ask for.

 

It's driving me nuts, being here alone with nothing but my thoughts. I can take five steps. Ten if I really take my time to stroll. Then I'm back at the foot of the bed again.

 

At least there's a bathroom in here. It's small. Spotless, even. Does this Locus guy actually spend time cleaning this shit before putting me in? Everything here is clean, I swear. The guy must have put a lot of effort into sprucing this up.

 

Now, if only it doesn't look like some old man decided to decorate it, that'd be great.

 

*

 

When you're alone with your thoughts, some of the things from your past really get to you. Sometimes I think about Wash. Beautiful, gorgeous Wash. Handsome Wash, sexy Wash. Cute little Washy, when you want him to be that way.

 

Well, I mean, I'm cuter, but that's nothing new.

 

This paint is fucking green. It's not even a nice, bright shade of green. It's the sort of green that an old man would have. The sheets are green. Is the guy colour blind? I could decorate better than this.

 

You know something? I think my kidnapper likes me. That's why I'm alive.

 

I wonder if he saw me and just... Kind of liked how I looked, or something.

 

That's a little too romantic, don't you think?

 

Don't get me wrong, I know all about Stockholm Syndrome. I don't think I'm going to get it, ever. The more you know about how people tick, the less likely you are to fall prey to them, right? I'm never going to be that stupid. If I had a knife on me, he wouldn't have any skin left, that's all I'm saying.

 

I'm no psychologist, but I bet I know people better than they do.

 

I kinda wonder what he looks like under his mask. Hey, it's not like I've got anything better to do when I'm inside here, rotting, okay? It's not a bad choice, I think. That's probably why I didn't see him coming. He's got this concealed mask that doesn't reflect any light, because it has no visor. I've seen it before when I was in service. Come to think of it, isn't it called Locus or something?

 

He named himself after his armour.

 

Did he abandon his name, like Wash did?

 

*

 

...I've lost count of the days.

 

Things, I suppose, could be worse.

 

He was trying to touch me. I fought him away, of course, because I don't even know what he looks like.

 

Scared, me? What a joke.

 

…Look, I just don't bottom, alright?

 

So he's got himself on top of me, and I was shouting and shoving at him. Now, the armour that we have, it's typically got some sort of techy shit that boosts our strength and speed. There's a reason why we usually have it on all the time, whenever we expect combat. Wash said he felt naked without his armour. To be honest, so do I. When you're doing what we do best, which is kill other people, of course, you want to be the strongest and the fastest, and you only take your armour off when you're with people that you trust.

 

Now this guy, Locus I mean, he's got his armour on. It's not like the Master Chief model, which is for general use. The Locus armour is made for sniping, not fighting, but there's no way in hell I can fight him off when he's got that shit on.

 

Okay, fine, I've been better. I really didn't want it, okay?

 

Anyway, he's got me pinned down, and Mr. Bad Touch there was just trying to fuck me, alright?

 

Jesus christ. Don't fucking pity me, I don't want that rubbish. Save it for somebody else.

 

He really doesn't say much. Just cryptic shit, usually telling me to shut up or to stop struggling. Eventually he's got me gagged and tied up again, and I couldn't do shit.

 

He finally takes his armour off, and...

 

I think our marks match.

 

His mark, it's an X like mine. In principle, that should usually bond two people together. It's not all random, like some people say. Sure, there's all this bullshit on TV about how two people with completely different markings see each other, know they're meant to be, and just bonded. They're fucking lying. Either that, or they've deluded themselves into believing whatever they want to believe.

 

How do I know? ...Reasons. Plus, I've actually read about this shit. It's really stupid to think that it's some romantic rubbish like actual soulmates finding each other. It's just this biological reaction that happens when two similar marks come in contact with each other. That's all.

 

...Two people become physically dependent on each other, because once the mark is activated, there's this brain chemistry shit going on. Kind of like addiction, really, except it makes you dependent on a person physically.

 

Trust me. Doctor Felix knows this shit.

 

So, Locus' mark is a splitting image of mine. It's not like it's on an unreachable area, or something. It's on his forehead. Let me repeat: _the motherfucker has got his mark on his forehead._ I sure hope for him he's never bonded to his mother that way, because boy, he sure deserves that.

 

So he's got me tied against the bed, naked, and he was trying to fuck me. He got my legs spread and pinned upwards, like something he'd seen in gay porn or something.

 

Locus saw the mark, and said, “Unfortunate.”

 

I thought he was going to press his mark against mine. That'd have been kind of funny, you know, because he's got his on his forehead and well, mine is right below my balls. I'd at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I'd teabagged him at least once in my life.

 

He just... kind of prepped me. And left me there, with a vibe up my ass, like one of those vids I've got of Wash. I sure as hell wasn't going to beg for release, of course, but... This shit hurts like a fucking bitch. It's not the same sort of pain that you've got when somebody goes in dry. It's like... It's like, you don't even want that shit, your mind goes on vacation every now and then because it's too much to handle, and when you come back drifting into your body you realise that it's probably just dumped its load six times onto your belly and you're still surprised that your balls still work at this point.

 

God, I just really wanted it to fucking stop.

 

Then there's the fucking dildo, shoved deep inside your ass, vibrating like it's nothing. And there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. I actually pushed it out a few times when I came, but he just shoved it back in. Even moved it a few times. It's like he's a machine and... Just... Fucking hell.

 

The asshole didn't even fuck me.

 

Weirdo.

 

He was gone when I woke up, of course. The coward didn't want to fight me or face me after that.

 

*

 

Locus got me new clothes. I mean, I really could use them, especially after he ripped mine apart.  
  


They're mostly black. Some have orange trims. Close enough to my armour, and his taste really isn't that bad. Just fits a bit big, but really, everything does kind of fit a bit big on me.

 

*

 

He talked.

 

Locus talked. He was angry, I could tell. Barely suppressed anger, under the cool and mostly detached facade he's got going on. What he did say, however...

 

Well, lets put it this way. I might or might not have killed many people in my life, right? It's war, folks. Some people just don't make it out alive. Casualties happen. Let it rest.

 

Anyway, this was revenge. I'm not sure for what. That part I'm still trying to figure out, but it's not like it really matters. If I go through the possibilities, it'd take all of eternity. I don't even know his face prior to... That...

 

I would have remembered his face. It's handsome, and has my mark on it.

 

I would have killed him, too, if I had the chance.

 

*

 

It's probably because I've been locked in here for so long, and he's the only person I see. He comes in on the regular, and I've been trying to convince him that he should let me out. I even put out, like a good prisoner, okay? Playing to his desires and all that. If he wants sex, that's fine, I can give it to him. Once you get used to being touched like _that_ , it's like... It's kind of like addiction, really.

 

Christ, I must be losing my mind.

 

Don't pity me. I know what's going on, trust me on that.

 

It's just... He's really good. I really wouldn't be surprised if he's seen videos of me and Wash together and just did to me what I did to Wash, when I think about it. He uses the same technique. He even tries to get the same tools that I used on Wash.

 

He's never fucked me, though. And believe me, I've tried. To get him to fuck me, I mean. He just... Doesn't. It's like he wants to punish me for something. Maybe even has a plan for it.

 

Maybe that's what his boss wants. Good porn? Oh, please. I'd have done it for free.

 

Well, maybe not before this.

 

*

 

I get it now. Sometimes you just really hate the person that you love.

 

He answered some of my questions, with very short answers. But he stayed, and talked. I think he's lonely. Good for him, I've got nothing better to do than to keep his sordid personality company, thanks to him.

 

In Locus' case, you fall in love with somebody. That somebody gets killed, along with your entire platoon. Wash and I, we might have been sent to the division that was supposed to assist them, alright? Well, as it happens, they were dead when we arrived, and we tried our best to help.

 

Wash and I, we might or might not have contributed to the casualty...

 

Oh, bloody hell. Of course we did. It was just business. Our governments weren't exactly friendly, and we couldn't do nothing or the alliance would fall apart. We could just swoop in after they were decimated and pick up the pieces, but as it turned out, they fared better than expected.

 

So, of course, we had to do something about it.

 

Wash didn't figure it out until much later, when a commission was started to investigate the deal. We were told to keep quiet about it or risk getting court martialed. I can't claim credit for knowing beforehand, either. If I did, I would have enjoyed it so much more. We were simply told that our enemies were there, and we just went in and killed them.

 

Locus was the only survivor. He's dead in the files, by the way. A dead man evades the radar so much more easily, and that's why he's like, a perfect mercenary right now.

 

So he did what many people in trauma do. He dissociated, and pretended that he had no more feelings. It worked out very well, since he no longer gives a shit about who he kills. But see, he's not exactly without feelings. He still has them. They're just... Locked away, somewhere. In a place where he himself doesn't know exists. Like repressed memories, but with emotions.

 

Until the opportunity to exact revenge presented itself before him. He found out that his enemy had the same mark as his, and a face that'd make emperors send thousands to their deaths. The hopeless romantic that he'd thought died along with his beloved, showed up once again.

 

He didn't tell me all of that, of course. I just put two and two together. Snippets of information here and there, a slice of inference, and a lot of guesswork. I'd say I've probably got eighty percent of it, at least.

 

He's... quite a fool, really. But a fascinating one.

 

So he's keeping me inside here. Neither of us will ever get found again.

 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of why I'll never be set free.

 

*

 

Apparently, I'd guessed part of it wrong. The part where he had a beloved.

 

He'd seemed so surprised, too. And then he just... opened up. He recognised me by my armour. I was the one who shot him in the face and left him to die, but he got stitched back up with minimal brain damage. His eyes, though, had been permanently blinded by the explosion, and he'd had to get surgery and months of rehabilitation. They're synthetic and made of bio-optics connected to his nervous system. Which is why they're the sort of green that looks like the morning sky, if the sun shines just right.

 

...I haven't seen the sun in forever, so all I can remember... Are the colour of his eyes.

 

We fucked. Finally, god. I have to say, for my first time bottoming, it wasn't that bad. Perhaps it's because he's prepped me so many times, that I pretty much got used to it by then. Perhaps it's because I've pretty much forgotten about Agent Washington.

 

Hey, now. It's not Stockholm, okay? I don't love Locus.

 

But when I'm with him, I feel... something. It's like a rush. A euphoria. He makes me high. When I look at him, I feel like I want to devour him, or be devoured.

 

Maybe it's because I've gone fucking crazy. That happens when you're locked up for too long with only one guy as company.

 

...Don't pity me. I don't need that shit.

 

*

 

I was tied and blindfolded again. Brought to the edge over and over again. It's like the same sort of euphoria that I get from being with Locus. The feeling of being violated afterwards, though, and being forced to cum and beg, was like reaching heaven, then falling back down.

 

When he left on a mission, it was like I was dying on the inside; I couldn't tell if he was there anymore, and I would feel like he wasn't going to come back.

 

That was unbearable.

 

Locus has become like a drug that I can't live without. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to top him, but he doesn't seem to be into that, so I have to close my eyes and pretend that I'm still fucking Wash.

 

I miss Wash.

 

But not the way I miss Locus.

 

It's strange. It's almost like...

 

No, that can't be. I know the sort of person that Locus is. He wouldn't do something like that.

 

*

 

Here's what happened.

 

Same deal: I was blindfolded and tied up again. Locus said that he had something for me. When he came back in, he kissed me on the lips, fucked me, and made me cum over and over again for him, until I was a complete wreck begging for his mercy.

 

You know, the usual smutty talk.

 

Me saying I loved Locus and that I wanted him to fill me the fuck up. That sort of rubbish that doesn't mean anything except in the heat of the moment.

 

Locus left me there for longer than I'd expected. Until I heard a cough that wasn't his. Great, I thought. He'd brought in somebody else, just like I did with Wash. ...Not that I care, at this point. As long as I got filled up and pounded to high heaven... I could live with that.

 

Nobody touched me, though. I must have looked really slutty, too, all used up and cummed in. Legs spread wide, willingly, waiting for him to come back. Like Wash used to.

 

“Locs?” I called for him after a while.

 

“Patience, Felix.” He commanded.

 

When he undid my blindfold, what I saw was something I would never have expected.

 

There was an old man. Locus was already dressed up in his armour, and he shook the old man's hand. Right beside the old man was Agent Washington.

 

My Washington. He was tied up and gagged. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and his face was red. I don't think I've ever seen him cry before, not even when he... Never mind, you don't want to know.

 

“I see that the soulbond was successful.” The old man said, putting a hand on Locus' shoulder. “Do as we agreed, and you will have your payment, soldier.”

 

Locus lifted his pistol, and shot Wash in the head.

 

There's blood everywhere. Maybe even pieces of Wash's brain. He... didn't deserve to die this way.

 

The old man said coldly before he left, “This is what happens when you interfere with my plan to revive my wife, David.”

 

*

 

Wash's mark... It was a cross. His and mine were slightly different, but I wasn't exactly lying when I told him that my mark was similar to his. Similar and the same are completely different things. Like, when you press them against each other, sometimes it'd work. Sometimes it won't. Sometimes it would form a half-bond, which I think is what many people out there have. That's why they can live with the bond, and that's why they don't find it an awful curse.

 

I don't think Wash really wanted to know if it would work. Smart guy.

 

Let sleeping lions lie, and all that jazz.

 

 


End file.
